Fix Me in 45
by Phi-Dono
Summary: CarlaCox. first scrubs story! Perry, unable to take relaxation into consideration, divulges his day's worth of crap into Carla's lap. She had asked him to, but when the reprocussions come back at her full force, what will Perry do. [fixed a bit, sorry!]


**Fix Me in 45**

6/6/o7 wends.

AN: I woke up at 1 something in the morning, and got an idea for this fic. I started writing it at 1:50 AM, and I have to go to skool today... Random, yes, I know. Oh yea, and this is my first scrubs fic. Also, the first fic I've posted on here in a LOOONG time. Please enjoy and leave a review, and even if you don't like it, review and let me know what I can do to fix it up, k? As a side note, I got the title for the story from a line in the song called "thriller" by Fall Out Boy. I heart them so...

Disclaimer: I don't own scrubs (cuz if I did, Carla and Perry would be together arguing and sharing muffins). I don't own FOB (cuz if I did, I'd be one happy beotch – for more than one reason). I mention FOB cuz their lyrics are laced here and there through out the story. But don't worry, this isn't a song fic. I just used a line or two because I felt it fit the situation.

This is a Carla and Perry pairing. I love them and they're just awesome. For those Carla/Turk and Jordan/Perry fans, I have nothing against them – they're cute in their own right. I just like Dr. Cox cuz he's just so **ANGRY** and Carla because she makes him act so shy and giddy. It's funny and cute... this should take place before Jordan comes in with baby-news, and before anyone realizes Perry's crushing on Carla. Also, this is third person POV/Perry POV. anyway, onward with ta fic! Oh, and sorry if I misspelled stuff, but I /AM/ writing this at 2 in the morning...

"talking"

'thinking'

/emphasized/

-xXx-

The plastic tray that came with day old mashed potato's, a granola bar that tasted more like old man's tongue bar, an apple with an /obvious/ rotten spot, juice box entirely too small for a grown doctor, and soup that seemed to burble with its own life force, was tossed down onto the table in half disgust, half frustration. A body was then dumped into a chair behind the abomination that the new lunch lady had the balls to call "food".

Today, it seemed, was just NOT his day.

A patient with severe epilepsy had come in today, his epileptic episodes so bad that he would have given Caesar a run for his money. Epilepsy, however, was an easy thing to handle in this hospital. Easy to say, when you're prepared for it though. Turns out that today – of ALL days – they didn't restock on the medication that would put this man out of his seizure induced misery. Because of course, nothing could go right for Perry. So for hours on end, the patient had to endure the pain until the emergency shipment arrived, and was so exhausted by the time the endorphin kicked in, was recommended to stay over night. And of course, a certain Doctor Cox had been the one to look after him the whole time. Granted, sometimes it just made his day to see people suffer, but not when he wasn't causing it and knew the person was in immense amounts of pain. No joy came from an innocent's personal suffering.

To add on to his already terrific day, a mountain – yes, literally a mountain – of paper work had been pushed off on him, and he just knew he wouldn't be able to get through all this legal work without having at /least/ three beers under his belt. He didn't care who denied it, it was mildly humourous to write up these legal documents when you were so highly inebriated, that you would actually try to add in the Mickey Mouse ears into your signature. Later, while on his much deserved coffee break, Jordan (of all people, thank you) had called again. Idle chatter resumed, conversation hinted with subtle arguments that would have gone unnoticed to less jaded people. Poking fun at each other with snide remarks included, he finally ended the conversation that he knew, if continued, would have left him in a worse mood ten times over. Though it seemed it was already too late for that, seeing as how those stupid, nagging little doubts that usually ran rampant in his head whenever he talked to Mrs. Satan came back full force. They remained in the back of his head all day, making him more agitated than usual. On top of everything, little things kept going wrong everywhere that just set him off in the wrong way or irked him to the point of wanting to back hand the nearest person.

And not that it at all mattered to him, but all his newbies weren't in their usual fervor. In fact, they were all sulking on their respective levels. He told himself he didn't care, and when he actually looked into their reason for the sudden depression, his excuse was just so that he'd have something to take his mind off his /own/ little hell.

Barbie was upset about her latest boyfriend that she had been seeing for about a month, was secretly running for the "other" team, though if you asked Perry, he would have been able to tell you he was a fruit cup from the moment he saw him. Bambi had been so adamant about a certain nurse on the hospital staff – and wowie – she was actually a pretty decent catch for him, but then he found out she was moving in two days to another district and so tragically, nothing could sprout between the two love lorn kiddies. That surgeon that's always hanging around them (Gandhi, not "The Todd" or whatever that jackass calls himself) also had a bit of a let down, but what else are you to expect when you ask Kelso for a few days off for a vacation – no matter HOW badly you needed it. If you hadn't learned by now folks, the man was more of a tight wad than anyone else you could find on this earth.

As for Carla...

Here, he let a ghost of a smile touch his lips.

Amazingly enough, she was the only one who wasn't in the throes of soul crushing depression, or acting like it. Actually, she was more chipper lately than usual, and he figured it was just an act in an attempt to cheer everyone else up. It would be something she would do, anyway... That would just be so like her...

But even though Carla herself was fine, Perry /himself/ wasn't... She had been fawning over that boyfriend of hers more often because of his little stump, and it seemed that every time he bothered to look for her, she had just left. He ended up having to look for her /boyfriend/ every time he wanted to catch a glimpse of her. And just because his day could only get worse, with every glance in her direction, she would be kissing his cheek or kissing his forehead or kissing his /lips/.

Taking up the complementary spoon, he stabbed the mashed potato's idly as his thoughts seemed to clear and all-but focus on one thing...

A lithe hand settled lightly on his shoulder, and he blinked before turning around. As he was turning, he caught the fragrance that he would so shamefully pause to inhale whenever /she/ stood next to him. His heart seemed to have – oh my God, a sign of life from an organ previously thought long ago dead – fluttered as stormy ocean blue eyes collided with soft but deep brown eyes. A gentle, cautious smile curved her lips and then her mouth parted, words coming out and he forced himself to snap back into reality.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Carla asked, indicating the empty seat across from him. She was moving to already settle down, but his reflexes kicked in before that.

"Well, not if you're planning on making me sip tea with you and share secrets as we squeal and talk about the boys we like," was what came out. It was a conditioned response that he couldn't help sometimes, but was grateful for. At least it kept him acting semi-normal in front of her, instead of like a drooling baboon.

She grinned, already in the chair across from him, and knew him well enough to actually humor him. "Well," she began, leaning forward slightly as she lowered her voice an octave, acting as though she were imparting a deep secret. "There /was/ this really cute accountant I had to look after today."

He knew she was just joking, just playing along with him like she would sometimes do, but that didn't stop jealousy trying to take a stab at him. He fought down the green-eyed monster, but knew that if there really /was/ an accountant, he would personally see to it that he receive fifty CC's of his fist in his face.

Not knowing how to retort to that without making himself sound like an injured little puppy, his eyes reverted back to his tray as he swirled his spoon in the goo that was his supposed soup.

"Did you want something?" he asked, hoping to achieve that nonchalant tone he could so easily push off onto other people.

"Oh, nothing," she said, but he didn't allow himself to look back up at her. "I just wanted to see if you were alright. I mean, everyone else is in a funk, and I guess I just wanted to check up on you."

"Ah..."

A lapse of silence ensued, he trying to crush what could have either been an onion or squirrel skull in his soup, she waiting quietly for a response.

Finally, after a minute or so, he chanced a look up at her. Carla was unaltered, and remained watching with – and succeeded in not seeming as though her stares were probing. Because he knew they weren't. She somehow managed that patient, motherly-esque type of persona when it was needed.

It was needed now, but he was a stubborn bastard and refused help no matter who it came from.

"What? What is it? Is there something you want from me?" he snapped, dropping his spoon back onto the tray with a clatter, sitting back as he stared her down. But again, she remained as calm as ever, whereas someone like Barbie would start stammering and mumble something akin to an apology, before tripping over themselves in an attempt to run away.

Instead of an apology, however, she simply said "Just tell me what's on your mind. All I'm here to do is listen and I might be able to cheer you up afterwards – though that's not a guarantee. But I promise you, I will do my best." And that was all she said.

He scoffed, more so to himself than towards her, and shot her a half hearted glare. "So you think you can help me with /my/ problems? Listen, you may be able to patch up the newbies here – and oh, I have the utmost faith in you that you do a /wonderful/ job – but I can assure you that my issues go far beyond matters of the heart." Even though that was a major point. "I'm just saying, I don't think you'll be able to help me. No, as a matter of fact, I /know/ you can't help me."

'Because right now, the only way you could help me is if you did something that would classify as cheating on that boyfriend of yours...' he thought, taking hold of the parallelogram wrapped in a shiny package. He tore the corner off and took a bite of the granola bar (then wished he hadn't, but refused to spit it out in front of Carla). He ended up chewing it slowly, on the outside looking methodical, but feeling distinctively nauseated on the inside.

"I'm not saying that I can help you," she tried again, understanding as always. "I'm saying that there is a chance that I might be able to."

He stared into her eyes for a few moments, before jabbing his semi-eaten crap bar in her direction. "Okay, you think you can help me, little miss therapist? Well fine then. You better prepare yourself, 'cause you're about to be fed hell on the engine."

And just like that, he gave in to her. He usually did, but he was more or less conscious of the fact. This time, it took him completely by surprise, and he only noticed it when he realized he was spouting off about the over all shitty-ness of the lunch served today. His whole entire day and some mental frets (of course, none of which involved her) were divulged. The entire time she had listened without any interruption, only allowing a nod of the head or a faint "Hmm", just letting him rant – as he usually did so – but knew that this one he really needed. He didn't know how, but she always managed to make him open up on some level. That unknown power of hers frightened him sometimes, because as big and as bad as he could pretend to be, he knew that deep inside, he was still vulnerable. She seemed to know this, or at least, knew how to handle him well enough that within a single lunch hour, she could tame all his worries. He had willingly retold every detail of his shit-tastic day with every word dripping in his heavily coated sarcasm, but each tale had a string of real emotion hidden behind it. Someone who didn't know him too well would have completely missed this, but he knew Carla caught on to it. She was amazing in that right.

She was amazing in general.

At the end of his particularly long rant, she had smiled in a way that was soft and somehow not at all patronizing. She told him some well meaning advice that he thought actually made sense. Then she got up and he was startled, mostly by the fact that he had been so engrossed by her, that it seemed he forgot that there was an outside world, and that there was a thing they both had to return to called "work".

He jerked his wrist upward, looking down at his watch in disbelief. Had it been forty five minutes already? His gaze snapped back up to her when she called his name.

"Trust me Doctor Cox, it could always be worse," she added in as a last sentiment, that smile still on her face. It curved her lips in a most attractive way and made her eyes seem that much more gentle. "Anyway, I've got to get back to that accountant," and here she added in a wink, walking away with a light giggle. "See ya!"

An almost unnerving silence overcame Perry. Half of it was due to this peaceful feeling that he was left with since her departure. The other half was due to the scheming on how he would give that accountant herpes in his eye without leaving any clues as to who gave it to him.

---

The end of the day had blessedly come, and he was on his way down the hallway to where the men and women changing rooms were, and he just so happened to catch Carla at the end of the corridor, standing in front of the women's changing room. She was facing away from him, conversing with another nurse, and he had just slipped by unnoticed into the men's changing room as he over heard a part of their conversation. Mostly Carla's part.

"Yeah, tell Turk I'll be right out – I'm just going to change real quick and gather some stuff from Elliot's locker." And then the door closed behind him.

She was going home. Granted, this would be the time he would be leaving as well, but thanks to that ever damnable Kelso and his damn paper work, he had a feeling he'd be here 'til at least two in the morning. In fact, he had come in here for that specific purpose. Standing in front of locker 68 (thank God it wasn't locker 69, though he would've liked to see any of the other men on the medical staff try to make a joke out of it while he glared them down into a pitiful submission), he unlocked it and opened the slim metal door, ignoring the screech it always gave off and dug around in his coat pocket. The only pen he had ever liked using for long periods of time had been a personal one, and he was going to need it tonight. It had that little gelly around it so that it cushioned your fingertips when you wrote with it. The ink flowed pretty nice too. The hospital pens here were crap, and it was a wonder that since their profession was to help ease people's pain and discomfort, why the hell their pens were such a pain in the ass to use. He supposed he had Kelso to thank for that.

Finally fishing the damn thing out, he pocketed it and slammed the door shut, before readjusting his white lab coat. He walked towards the door and pulled it back, letting it swing shut behind him. The hall was empty. Carla had probably already left...

He ignored the little pang of discomfort. The hope that he'd be able to see her one last time tonight before he had to get up close and personal with a pile of paper, had died. But then again, everything else seemed to be going wrong for him today, so this really shouldn't have been a surprise. Even so, he stood by idly in the hallway, the occasional beeping of a heart monitor sounding off in the background.

He sighed, fed up with himself and started to head off toward the lounge, ready to tackle that legal stuff that might be important in some way.

He had started to leave, but stopped when he heard what sounded suspiciously like a sniffle.

He paused a moment, waiting for the sound to come back. It did, and he was sure someone was crying. If it was a patient, he was /really/ not in the mood to console some loser who was worried that he wouldn't be home in time to make his brother's finacee's cousin's second daughter's best friend's wedding. But his good will (which barely managed to survive this long) had him walking around in an attempt to find the source of the sniffles. When he was standing before the door to the women's locker room, he was surprised to find that the afore mentioned noises were coming from inside. Carla had said she was going in there. She still might be in there. She might be the one crying.

Swallowing down the sudden distaste that arose in his throat, he lifted his hand to knock on the door, but decided against it. If he knew Carla as well as she knew him, then as soon as he knocked, she would gather herself up as best as she could and come out all smiles, while inside she was suffering. It was best to catch her in the act, because at least then she would offer up some lame excuses until she finally realized that no one was believing her lies, and confide in her friends.

He just hoped to God she wasn't in her underwear or something, because then that would make this more awkward than it was already going to be.

Carefully, slowly, so that the door squeaked when he entered, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding the said nurse sitting on a bench (thankfully still in her scrubs), the back of her hands pressed against her eyes as she cried to herself. His eyes softened, a small frown tugging down the corner of his lips as his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

He took a cautious step towards her, and realized she still didn't know he was here. Not knowing what else to do, he called her name.

"Carla..."

Her head snapped up, tear streaked cheeks greeting him.

"Doctor Cox..." she murmured, apparently shocked by his presence to do much than utter his professional name. A moment later she seemed to have snapped out of it as she rose and began wiping away at the tears, laughing to herself as she began her denial.

"Oh–, how embarrassing, heh. You must think I'm crying, because, you know, I'm sad or something but it's actually just allergies," she rambled on, not looking him in the eye and only offering his chest a watery smile. "And... What are you doing in the women's room anyway...?" she asked, almost as an after thought, as though she realized just where they were.

"Well," he began after a heart beat of heavy silence. "I've been here once already, so I figured it would be alright to come in. Let's just say that your curiosity will win you over after you've effectively killed your sobriety." His tone held a light humor to it as he remembered that one time he had snuck in here while under the heavy influence of alcohol, and had been deeply disappointed to find that it looked exactly like the men's locker room, except...well /clean/.

"Ah..." was all she had to say. That in itself let him know something was wrong. When this normally talkative and expressive woman was reduced to one worded responses, the world might have just metaphorically ended. "Well, I guess I should be going then." Here, she stooped to grab her coat, slinging it over her arm as she grabbed a nearby tote bag and hefted the strap onto her shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor Cox... Goodnight."

As she moved to walk past him, his hand shot out and took hold of her upper arm, keeping her from going any further.

"Carla, are you going to tell me why you were crying, or are you going to make me guess?" he asked, though he kept his tone low as not to startle the already rattled woman.

She turned her head toward him, though still refused to look him in the eye. It was becoming irritating, to say the least. Silence once again resonated through out the changing bay, and he opened his mouth to prompt her again, when her voice cut him off.

"It's just... It's a little overwhelming to be the shoulder everyone comes to cry on. I mean, I want to help everyone and I know I can't help /everyone/ and I even have my own problems, but I try to ignore them because my friends need me and it's all I can do to keep smiling and trying to let everyone know it'll be alright when I'm not even sure myself and it's just– ... Sometimes I feel like I need an umbrella on the inside...ya know...?"

She sighed deeply here, and he nodded.

"Yeah, I know. It's not easy Carla, but you have to understand that this kind of pressure is on you because you /welcome/ it." Here, finally, she looked up at him and her slightly reddened eyes watched him carefully. "By taking on everyone else's problems, you're just asking for backlash. So, as a doctor, I must recommend that you take some time off to cater to /your/ needs." His hand dropped from her arm, and yet neither of them moved. His voice dropped lower with the earnest he laced his words with. "Be selfish for once in your life, ya freakin' saint..."

Her big, brown eyes searched his imploringly, not knowing what to say to that. His advice was honest and definitely had a few good points. She offered a small smile, and even though it was real, it still held traces of sadness. He frowned slightly again, not knowing what else to do to make it better, so instead he just turned and gathered her in his arms, holding her against him. She was taken by surprise, and her body stiffened in response.

"It'll be okay. Trust me, in this profession, it has to be." And that was the last thing he would say to her about that. He was supposed to be an asshole, not a guidance counselor. Giving advice was just not his forte, but hopefully it had worked for him just this once.

She relaxed in his hold, and wrapped her own slender arms around him, returning the embrace.

"Thank you, Perry," she spoke softly against the fabric of his coat that smelled heavily of bleach and faintly of his cologne.

Likewise, her perfume and the floral scent of her shampoo wafted up to him and he inhaled, savoring the moment. The feel of her in his arms and the scent of the woman he loved. The here and now ended a little too soon, however, when she stepped out of the hug and smiled up at him again. A barely noticeable blush tinted her cheeks, and he knew it was out of embarrassment.

Gone were the tears and was now replaced by a shy smile.

"Well, thanks for the advice, Doctor. I should be going now though, so... I'll take what you said into consideration. I'll see you tomorrow then," and she turned, heading out.

She stopped for a moment though, and looked back over her shoulder. Then she came back to him and before he knew what was happening, stepped up on her tippy toes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. She bounced back on her heels, and even bigger smile on her face as she walked out, but not before calling out a "Goodnight!", disappearing behind the swinging door.

Silence once again revisited good old Doctor Perry Cox.

Needless to say, he was stunned. Utterly, completely, and dare he say /happily/ stunned. Carla had kissed him. On the cheek. And it was more of a peck than anything... Even so...

Well... At least it was a start...

He shook his head, suddenly very well aware of the fact that he was standing alone in the female's changing bay and should anyone walk in on him, he wouldn't be able to come up with any evidence acquitting him of being some kind of sick pervert. So he made his leave immediately.

---

Thirteen minutes later found him sitting at a desk, pen included with gelly drumming insistently on the table. A single desk lamp being the only light in the room, beamed down on the legal documentation that lay scattered before him, random scraps signed here and there, and plenty of articles to read and voice opinions on. His mind was on other things.

Things like tears, doe eyes, shampoo and chaste kisses given in the secrecy of a locker room.

If his mind continued to wander like this all night, then he might as well set up a bed on the couch over in the middle of the room. But he knew from prior experience that the couch smelled like ass, and he'd really not try to lay in it again if he could help it. So he sighed, resigned to get this paper work done as fast as he humanly would be able to.

A certain doctor sat hunched over a pile of papers, writing and scribbling away into the dark hours of the night, smiling to himself in the dark of the room every now and then as the thought of a certain nurse filtered through his mind.

He lied to himself. His mind would wander no matter what he did, but he was so used to it by now that he somehow found a way to sign his name away while still thinking of Carla's smile and just how right it felt to hug her. He would have to find more reasons to embrace her, but then she might get suspicious.

Better not chance it...

-xXx-

AN: so how was it? Pretty decent for my first scrubs fic? Decent for writing it at 2 in the morning? Please review and let me know if I can improve anything. I hope I didn't over do it with Perry's personality. Hmm... Ooooh! Just let me know if I did alright, okay? (Now I'm nervous...)


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